Of Pink Ponies and Time Travel
by stillgoldie1899
Summary: Relates directly to Character Creation. I find myself transported back to 1899 by means of a Magical Stick, given to me by a Magical Pink Pony, in the middle of Salem Woods. What wackiness will ensue? Who knows? The Pink Pony does.


My first question had to do with the horse in Salem Woods. It was pink, and it was a horse, and it was in Salem Woods, where you were more likely to find people smoking pot then actual wildlife. I was only passing through, on my way to the Willows to meet some friends for Chinese food and arcade action, and cutting through the woods had seemed like a good idea.

Until the pink pony appeared.

Somehow, it was holding a stick with glitter and tassels on it in it's mouth, and it was managing to speak at the same time. I ignored it, and patted myself down a bit before sniffing the air to check for the smell of any sort of drug. Had I consumed anything odd before I began my walk? No...just water. Perhaps there was something wrong with the water?

"Are you listening to me, noble lady?" The horse interrupted my train of thought.

"Huh? Ah...no. Not really, pony. Wait...how are you talking while holding that ugly stick in your mouth? Actually...how are you talking at all. I was under the impression that horses didn't have the proper vocal chords to produce complex sounds like words...Are you Mr. Ed's bitch?"

"I take offense to that, noble lady. I am a mystical horse, sent from the realm of magic to grant you this staff of power." With a toss of it's cotton candy colored hair, the horse seemed to shove the staff at me. I backed quickly away.

"What the hell is it? It looks like it dropped out of Laurie Cabot's ass." Mentioning the local Queen of Witches in such disrespectful tones was risky in the woods, but...I pretty much thought she was a crock, and didn't care who knew it.

"I've already said. It's a staff of power. It will take you to where your heart most desires you be." The horse shoved itself closer yet again, and I could feel the damn glitter on the stupid stick getting flung onto my face. Lovely. By the time I made it to my friends, I'd be accused of having taken a side trip to a strip club.

"My heart most desires I be with my friends now, so pony, if you'd be so kind...get out of my way." I tried to push past the thing, only to have it drop the ugly stick into my hand.

I swear I heard the stupid thing laugh as the world swirled and spun around me, colors blending and warping, into strings of light with no discernible shape, just patternless forms. I swore, loudly, as the swirling, puke-inducing mess left me dumped on a ugly, cobblestone street. When I'm pissed enough, I have a vocabulary that would make a sailor blush, and before I could notice much else about the people around me, I noticed that they were edging quickly away from me.

Then, of course, it struck me that I had landed in the middle of some reenactment or something. Everyone was dressed in very nicely done turn of the century period clothing. I mean, this stuff was really well done. And their sets were pretty swank, too. I reached out and knocked on the brickwork of the building I'd landed next to, and it was solid. Damn sight better then the crap they had us wearing when I worked at the House of the Seven Gables...

Standing, I brushed my jeans off, and shrugged my light, bright purple fleece a bit higher onto my shoulders. Whatever had happened with that idiotic pink pony, I had landed someplace a bit colder then Salem had been when I closed my eyes to get the swirling colors out from in front of them. And I knew I didn't look like every one else, but I was getting crazy stared at.

Finally, some kid with newspapers in his hands approached me with a cautious smile. "Ya lost, ma'am?"

"Look, twerp. I'm only 28. Don't call me ma'am. Miss, or lady, or broad, or bird, or chica, or senorita would be fine. But ma'am? I'm not your grandmother. And yes, I'm lost. Do I look like I belong in your little show? Where the hell is the exit?"

"Um...the exit to what, exactly?" The kid cocked his head, and I had to admit, it was pretty adorable. If I had a cookie handy, I would have given it to him.

"This whole...period city shindig you're all doing here. Very nice costumes, by the way."

"These aren't costumes. And this isn't...Period City? It's New York City. Manhattan island, to be specific."

I snickered. Right. Someone I'd traveled what would amount to over a four hour car ride in the blink of an eye. "Sure it is, kid. Spin me another one."

"Look, lady, maybe ya should just stay right there until a copper comes by, and then ya can ask him whatcha asked me, and maybe he can find ya a place in one of the local hospitals? It'd be warm at least, ya know?" The boy was starting to edge away, looking nervously side to side, and apparently regretting having spoken to me.

"Are you suggesting I'm crazy, little boy? You are. Well, bravo, you're doing very well keeping in character. You should try to do something more with your career then acting in reenactments. Try for Broadway, or something." I shrugged, and began to dig through my purse for my phone. I needed to call my boyfriend to come get me, wherever the hell I was. I could just GPS it, if I had to.

"Oh! Ya lookin for Broadway?"

"Yeah. That's it. I want to get to Broadway." My phone turned on, once I'd found it, but when I tried to get it to do anything more then that, it began to balk. No service. How could this be a dead zone? Seriously. Angrily tapping at it, I almost didn't hear the boy's directions.

"Just head two blocks that way, take a right, and then another two blocks and it'll cross paths with ya. Ya'll be fine."

And before I could thank him, he'd vanished. Glancing up from my smartphone screen, I watched his back as he vanished into the crowd. Damn shame, that was. The kid had real potential, he hadn't broken character once.

I started trudging in the direction he'd pointed out. Not that I needed to get to Broadway, I just needed to get a damn signal, so I could phone home and get the heck out of this freak show. As I walked, I muttered curses under my breath. Curses on pink ponies, curses on glitter sticks, curses on Laurie Cabot, curses on cell phone dead zones, curses on damn reenactment parks, curses on Salem Woods, curses on everything. Damnit. I was going to be really, really late getting to the Willows...


End file.
